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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25976992">Cinnamon Boy</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/smokestacks/pseuds/smokestacks'>smokestacks</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>K-pop, NCT (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, BDSM, Blow Jobs, Bottom Lee Jeno, Dom Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung, Dubious Consent, Enemies to Lovers, Finger Sucking, Hate Sex, Humiliation, M/M, Praise Kink, Public Sex, Sub Lee Jeno, Top Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung, Underage Drinking</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 10:54:16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>11,033</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25976992</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/smokestacks/pseuds/smokestacks</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"So. This is new.”<br/>It was sweltering on the track. Late July, sweat rolling down his temples, Jeno’s insides were burning just as hot as his skin was underneath his black racing uniform. His damp bangs were sticking to the sides of his face. No matter how often he pushed his hair back with his gloved hands, it still fell forward and obscured his vision. Frustrating.<br/>“Nervous?” the smooth voice continued, a red-hot poker in Jeno’s side.<br/>Don’t look at him. A self-given command that Jeno was well used to hearing in his own head by now. “No,” Jeno answered, but the barely perceptible shake in his voice gave it all away. Like usual.<br/>“Not gonna ask me to throw the race? Let you finish first?”<br/>“No,” Jeno repeated.<br/>“That’s too bad,” Doyoung clicked his tongue in feigned disappointment, and Jeno finally dared to glance over at him. That was a mistake.<br/>“You know I like it when you beg to finish.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung/Lee Jeno</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>176</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. There's Things I Want to Say To You</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>this fic was partly inspired by the song cinnamon girl by lana del rey - check it out!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"So. This is new.” </p><p>It was sweltering on the track. Late July, sweat rolling down his temples, Jeno’s insides were burning just as hot as his skin was underneath his black racing uniform. His damp bangs were sticking to the sides of his face. No matter how often he pushed his hair back with his gloved hands, it still fell forward and obscured his vision. Frustrating. </p><p>“Nervous?” the smooth voice continued, a red-hot poker in Jeno’s side. </p><p><em>Don’t look at him</em>. A self-given command that Jeno was well used to hearing in his own head by now. “No,” Jeno answered, but the barely perceptible shake in his voice gave it all away. Like usual. </p><p>“Not gonna ask me to throw the race? Let you finish first?” </p><p>“No,” Jeno repeated.</p><p>“That’s too bad,” Doyoung clicked his tongue in feigned disappointment, and Jeno finally dared to glance over at him. That was a mistake.  </p><p>“You know I like it when you beg to finish.” </p><p>
  <strong>3 Years Ago </strong>
</p><p>Jeno didn’t qualify. Almost a hundred racers, and his placement was in the bottom thirty. When his car finally slipped over the finish line, he didn’t even need to look at the scoreboard to know that he came up short. Instead, he just pulled off of the track, vision beginning to blur as tears gathered in the inner corners of his eyes. “Stop,” he said aloud, willing his eyes to dry, but the audible waver in his voice sparked a flood of tears. </p><p>He smacked his forehead against the steering wheel, hoping that his face would be hidden there from any cameras. “Don’t do this,” he tried again, voice strained and muffled by the wheel. “It’s okay,” he whispered to himself, just out of habit. A habit that his therapist had drilled into him for years. It wasn’t very reassuring. Somewhere in between the millions of times that he had repeated that simple phrase to himself in the mirror, the meaning had been lost.  </p><p>It wasn’t okay, and he was finding it harder to breathe.</p><p>Jeno focused on the white cuffs of his uniform jacket, his vision growing shaky and his chest heaving. He took a deep gulp of air, trying to steady his breathing to no avail as the roar of the crowd started to ring in his ears. “It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay.” His whispered mantra was barely audible over the static in his ears. Head spinning, he wiped at his wet eyelashes with his sleeves, and in an effort to take in a deeper breath, Jeno lifted his head from the wheel and fell back against his seat.  </p><p>From there, his gaze landed on the big screen above the track. The moving images were crystal clear, cameras moving jerkily to catch the post-race fanfare. Up on the first-place podium, shiny golden confetti raining down onto his shoulders – Doyoung Kim. Wearing a black racing suit with what seemed like thousands of sponsors’ logos plastered all over it, Doyoung was clutching the first-place trophy close to his chest, his smile bright and wide. Reporters were clamoring around him just as frenziedly as his crew was pushing the cameras back. Jeno blinked away the fresh tears forming in his eyes, still struggling to catch his breath as he tried to focus on the screen. </p><p>Jeno watched Doyoung’s every movement on the podium from behind the wheel. Holding the trophy high above his head, waving to the crowd. His smile was blindingly white. So bright that Jeno finally caught a breath of fresh air. </p><p>- </p><p>Jeno sunk down into a seat at his hotel’s bar late that night, unable to keep his fingers out of his own tangled hair. An anxious habit. When the bartender handed a menu to him, he shook his lowered head in response. Really, he didn’t even know if he was allowed to sit there. He wasn’t old enough to drink. He was hardly old enough to race, really.  </p><p>Jeno's love for racing started early, spending long weekends at his uncle’s mechanic shop even as an elementary-schooler, his father busy at work. His aunt and uncle took him to the local racetrack every Friday night back then, the roar of the crowd fueling Jeno’s passion for the sport. He imagined that being inside one of those cars would be the best feeling in the world – driving so fast that no one could see you. </p><p>Years later, he found that was only half true. Racing <em>was</em> the best feeling in the world – but only if you won. Jeno started out winning on local tracks, feeling invincible. He was sponsored quickly, having amassed a following that he now figured was only due to his looks. Which kind of sucked. What sucked more, though, was when he entered the big leagues and failed to place. The first time. The second time. The eleventh time. His anxiety became unmanageable, and he dropped out of high school in hopes that he would get better at racing.  </p><p>Almost two years later, not much had changed. The truth was, Jeno would never stand on the first-place podium. He could take his pills when he felt an anxiety attack coming on, get in his car and practice from dawn until dusk, but there would always be one immovable, untouchable thing in his way – Doyoung Kim. </p><p>Doyoung was winning the pro races before Jeno had even emerged onto the scene. A media darling, the golden boy of the racing world, he was an undisputed living legend in the sport. And even though they were competitors now (hardly, but Jeno could dream), Jeno was a fan. Back in high school, Jeno had watched him race on TV countless times, even saw him in person once when he had saved up enough money to buy a ticket to a <em>real </em>race. Now, when Doyoung’s jet black car zipped past Jeno’s during a race, he couldn’t help but feel a little twinge of pride that he was on the same track as Doyoung Kim. </p><p>“You sure you don’t want anything?” the bartender asked, snapping Jeno out of his own thoughts. He shook his head, uttering a soft <em>no thank you </em>in response. </p><p>The bar was hardly occupied, save for an older gentleman at the very end of the counter. Good. Jeno didn’t really like to talk to strangers. Not because he wasn’t friendly, but because he was stiff and awkward, and people tended to expect him to be a lot more interesting than he really was. So when a man sat down to the right of him, leaving just one seat between the two of them, Jeno cringed internally.  </p><p>“A Black Russian,” the man addressed the bartender flippantly. Jeno’s eyes flicked up for a single moment to take a look at the stranger. </p><p>And then he did a double-take. </p><p>Doyoung Kim. Alone. Sitting just one seat away from him. At the bar. The Doyoung Kim whom Jeno had idolized for years. The Doyoung Kim whose eyes wandered slowly across the bar until he met Jeno’s stare, most likely grossed out because Jeno was probably drooling out of his open mouth. Jeno cast him an awkwardly tight-lipped smile, immediately looking down at his own lap in embarrassment.  </p><p>“Hey.” Jeno flinched at the sudden vocalization, recognizing Doyoung’s mild voice from all the interviews that he had watched religiously of the older man. Jeno looked up nervously to make eye contact, remaining silent, and was struck by how almost unrecognizable Doyoung looked in the low light of the bar. He wasn’t wearing the matte black racing suit that Jeno was accustomed to seeing him in – instead, he wore a thin navy-blue sweater and jeans. His eyes weren’t bright and wide like they were when he stepped onto the winning podium – instead, they were lidded and dark. “You a fan?” he asked. </p><p>“Yes,” Jeno heard the word stumble out of his mouth, surprised at his own sudden forwardness.  </p><p>“C’mere,” Doyoung beckoned Jeno with a crook of his finger, and Jeno all but tripped over his own feet to hop into the next chair over. </p><p>“You won the race today.” That was the first thing that came out of Jeno’s mouth, stupidly enough. He thought about smacking himself in the forehead, until he heard Doyoung laughing. He had a nice laugh. Melodious. </p><p>“Yeah,” Doyoung said, “I did. Is that a congratulations?” Doyoung asked, his tone ribbing, and Jeno nodded quickly, his cheeks heating up in embarrassment. </p><p>“Yeah, I mean, congrats,” he stammered, managing a smile, and Doyoung smiled back quickly before he threw his head back and downed his drink. “You were really great,” Jeno added quietly. Doyoung flagged down the bartender for another drink, his eyes not leaving Jeno’s. </p><p>“Thanks,” Doyoung said, reaching out for his second drink, and Jeno wasn’t sure whether the gratitude was directed towards the bartender or himself. “Must have been hot up there, in the stands,” he continued. </p><p>Oh. </p><p>So Doyoung had no idea who Jeno was. Had no idea that they were essentially co-workers. He thought that Jeno was just some random fan, some guy who was lucky enough to have his idol sit down next to him at a hotel bar. </p><p>Yeah, it stung. Almost enough for Jeno to tell him the truth, that he was a racer too, but how embarrassing would that be? <em>I guess you didn’t notice me because I was practically one-hundred cars behind you the entire race, but I’m Jeno Lee. Number 00? The white car with the blue lines? You might have noticed me staring at you unblinkingly before?</em> </p><p>He couldn’t say it. Instead, he settled for a half-hearted “yeah.” How could he correct Doyoung now, when he was looking Jeno over with those sharp eyes like he was the only person in the room? </p><p>“Want some?” Doyoung asked, extending the almost empty drink in his hand to Jeno. </p><p>“Sure,” Jeno answered quickly, but when he reached out for the glass, Doyoung pulled it back. </p><p>“Lean back and open your mouth,” Doyoung said. </p><p>At first, Jeno thought that he had heard him wrong. Then he considered that it might have been a joke, but the expression on Doyoung’s face was so genuinely serious that Jeno opted to stall. “What the hell?” he half-asked, half-laughed, and Doyoung offered him a small smile in return, tilting his own head back in example.  </p><p>Drink from the glass in Doyoung’s hand? Yes, it was questionable, but Jeno didn’t have very much time to question it, because Doyoung lifted an eyebrow impatiently at him. So Jeno haltingly tilted his head back, and parted his lips. Doyoung's smile grew wider as he lifted the drink to Jeno’s mouth, pouring what little liquid was left down Jeno’s throat, a drop spilling out the side of his mouth and dribbling down his chin. Jeno choked down a cough at the taste. “Oops,” Doyoung deadpanned, not sounding the least bit remorseful. He swiped at the liquid with his thumb, and Jeno’s skin burned where Doyoung had touched him.  </p><p>“Good?” Doyoung asked, facial expression still neutral, and Jeno was pretty sure that he meant the drink, so he nodded. “Here, open again,” he ordered. And then Doyoung’s index thumb was on Jeno’s tongue, tasting of the alcohol that was spilled earlier. Jeno looked at him in shock, meeting Doyoung’s narrowed eyes. “You can have the rest, since you liked it so much.” </p><p>Jeno closed his lips around the man’s fingers hesitantly, unsure of Doyoung’s intentions. “Suck,” he prompted, somehow completely straight-faced, and Jeno hollowed out his cheeks slowly, keeping his eyes on the other man’s face, waiting for Doyoung to suddenly laugh and pull his hand away from Jeno’s mouth, admitting that it was just a prank. </p><p>But he never did. Doyoung’s lips twitched up at the outer corners at the way Jeno’s lips pursed around his thumb, and then promptly pulled it out from Jeno’s mouth. He reclined in his seat and smiled contentedly, like nothing had happened. Jeno mirrored the movement, leaning back in shock. Ears burning red hot, he cast a quick glance around the room to see if anyone was watching. But it appeared that no one had noticed the proverbial fireworks that had just shot off at the bar counter. </p><p>“You a model?” Doyoung asked, his elbow on the bar counter, head resting on his hand.  </p><p>“No,” Jeno answered hesitantly, considering if he had just imagined that whole ordeal. But he couldn’t have – he ran his tongue over his teeth, the strong taste of alcohol coating the inside of his mouth. </p><p>“You could be,” Doyoung said, looking Jeno up and down for the umpteenth time that night, and Jeno wasn’t sure that his own face could get any redder. </p><p>“Thank you,” Jeno breathed out. </p><p>“What if I asked you to blow me?” </p><p>It was sudden, and less of a hypothetical question – more like a command. Jeno’s mind went blank, and was surprised when he heard himself saying “I don’t know.” It was an honest answer, all that he could manage now that his head was spinning around faster than his car did on the track. </p><p>“C’mon,” Doyoung said, grabbing Jeno’s hand as he stood up suddenly. “Bathroom,” he explained, and then he was towing Jeno behind him, making a beeline for the men’s restroom.  </p><p>As soon as the stall door closed behind them, Doyoung shoved Jeno up against it. His fingers made their way into Jeno’s mouth again, without command this time. Jeno could feel his own heart thumping erratically inside his ribcage, and after a moment, he pulled back from Doyoung’s hand, a single string of saliva connecting his mouth to Doyoung’s index finger. </p><p>“Well?” Doyoung asked after a few seconds of silence.  </p><p>“I don’t...” </p><p>“You said you were a fan,” Doyoung accused, his eyes narrowed. Jeno’s breath caught in his throat, suddenly feeling less confused and more afraid.  </p><p>“I am,” Jeno whispered haltingly, his face so close to the other man’s that his eyes flickered rapidly up and down, back and forth between Doyoung’s eyes and lips. </p><p>“Then use your mouth,” Doyoung murmured, his fist tangled in Jeno’s hair roughly, guiding him down onto his knees. And then Jeno found himself genuflecting on the ground, his face directly in front of Doyoung’s clothed crotch. </p><p>This was a first for Jeno. Not giving a blowjob – giving a blowjob to an (almost) stranger in the middle of a public restroom. Jeno wasn’t exactly the adventurous type. He’d never been with someone that he didn't know, never done anything outside of the bedroom. He’d never <em>wanted </em>to, never even dreamt of doing something so risqué. </p><p>But Jeno was also hard. <em>Really</em> hard, hard enough that there was a little wet spot forming through the front of his jeans, his cock uncomfortably restrained in the tight fabric. He shifted awkwardly on his knees and looked up at Doyoung from the floor, his conscience wavering. “Come on,” Doyoung said, his tone irritated, and guided Jeno’s fingers to his pants’ zipper. </p><p>It felt a lot like he was on autopilot, from that moment on. Jeno wasn’t thinking, only doing – and once he finally felt Doyoung release down his throat, he managed to look up through his eyelashes as he swallowed.  </p><p>Doyoung wasn’t looking down at him. His eyes were tightly closed. </p><p>
  <strong>Three Weeks Later </strong>
</p><p>“That last race wasn’t good, Jeno.” </p><p>“I know.” </p><p>“It hasn’t been good. For a while now.” </p><p>“I know,” Jeno exhaled unsteadily as his shoulders deflated, running his hand through his hair at his crew chief’s reprimand. </p><p>“I honestly don’t know what to tell you at this point,” Donghyuck said, eyeing him concernedly. “I know it’s my job as your chief, but I feel like you’ve hit a wall.” </p><p>“I have,” Jeno admitted, eyes on the ground. </p><p>Donghyuck sighed exasperatedly. “What can we do differently today?” </p><p>Less than a month since Jeno’s encounter with Doyoung Kim at the hotel bar, and the next qualifier was upon them. Jeno was doubly nervous for this race – if he had wanted a win before, he wanted it twice as much now. For slightly questionable reasons.  </p><p>Winning meant being on the big screen above the track, standing on the podium, being in the post-race interviews that aired on TV later that night. And Doyoung would see Jeno on the big screen. Probably stand next to him on the podium. Watch Jeno’s interviews on TV while he was waiting to see his own. And he’d be surprised. Shocked, even. To see that boy from the bathroom taking the podium with him.  </p><p>Jeno wondered if it would be a happy surprise. </p><p>“Earth to Jeno,” Donghyuck was saying, tapping his foot impatiently. </p><p>“Sorry,” Jeno said quickly, sitting up straight and putting on his best listening face. He had been thinking about Doyoung a lot since then. He had re-watched Doyoung’s old interviews, scrolled through his Instagram page more times than he could count. Two weeks ago, when he watched Doyoung win the race that he himself had failed to qualify for last month, Jeno had realized that he didn’t revere Doyoung in the same way that he used to. </p><p>Instead, he thought about Doyoung fucking him in the back of his race car. Or sucking Doyoung off in his hotel shower. Or Doyoung fingering Jeno until he came, hands-free. That was a personal favorite of his. Jeno fingered himself for hours some nights, coming over and over again to the thought of Doyoung's fingers inside of him instead. And Jeno wasn’t the obsessive type, so this was new, this feeling deep in the pit of his stomach. People usually said it felt like butterflies – to Jeno, it felt like a forest fire. </p><p>“I lost you again, huh?” </p><p>Jeno looked up to an irritated Donghyuck. “I’m sorry, I really am,” Jeno said, standing up and grabbing his crew chief’s hands. “It’s just... I need to do good today.” </p><p>Donghyuck quirked a brow. “This is different. Why are you acting different?” </p><p>Jeno laughed. “Just help me win, okay?” </p><p>Donghyuck shook his head, bemused. Nonetheless, he patted Jeno on the back as he climbed into his car. “Good luck,” Donghyuck said, retreating to the pit when the sudden roar of the crowd forced Jeno's eyes up to the big screen. His heart skipped a beat. </p><p>Doyoung was climbing into his car with his chin held high, waving at the stands. The cameras caught every angle of it. Not a hair out of place, he looked good in every shot. He looked up at the screen, and smiled wide when the deafening cheers of the crowd somehow increased in volume at his appearance. </p><p>Jeno revved his engine restlessly.  </p><p>That night in the bathroom, Doyoung had pulled Jeno’s hair a little too roughly, fucked Jeno’s throat for a little too long. It was a little too painful, and his voice was a little too hoarse the next day. </p><p>And Jeno had liked it all a little too much. It scared him. It confused him. It was hard for him to think straight, especially when Doyoung was smiling like that up on the screen. </p><p>Jeno wanted to be on the receiving end of that smile again. </p><p>“I need to do good today, Donghyuck,” he said through his headpiece. “I need to place.” </p><p>“I heard you,” Donghyuck replied, voice staticky in Jeno’s ear. </p><p>“I need to,” Jeno repeated, and it took a minute for Donghyuck to answer. </p><p>“I don’t know what’s got you acting so different, but I like it.” </p><p>And then the green flag waved. </p><p>- </p><p>More than ever before, Jeno was chasing Doyoung. A clumsy shadow behind Doyoung's black car, desperately craning his neck to catch a glimpse of him. Near the end of the race, Jeno took a few turns recklessly, which was out of character – Donghyuck was screaming at him through his headset, telling him to slow down on the corners, but Jeno didn't hear him. His head was filled to the brim with raucous thoughts of Doyoung. Doyoung seeing Jeno’s name on the scoreboard, his face on the huge screen above the track when he won. That's what propelled Jeno forward, faster than ever. </p><p>10th place. </p><p>When he flew over the finish line, Donghyuck’s screams were so loud in Jeno’s headpiece that the racer instinctively yanked it out of his own ear. He stumbled out of his car and onto the side of the track, heart racing and palms sweating. He fixed his gaze on the leaderboard. </p><p>Sitting at the very top, next to the number one – 26. Doyoung’s number. </p><p>And at the very bottom, next to the number ten – 00. Jeno’s number. </p><p>He didn’t have much time to relish in it, though, because the display changed, and then Jeno saw himself on the screen. His dark hair was messy, and he desperately carded his fingers through it until he remembered that everyone could see him. The crowd roared in reaction, and he felt his cheeks reddening. The camera then cut to Doyoung, to the crowd’s further delight. His eyes were already on the screen. So Doyoung had seen him, then? Jeno desperately searched his expression for any hint of surprise or recognition, but Doyoung’s face was unreadable. And handsome. </p><p>“Jeno!” someone called, and Jeno turned, looking for who he thought was Donghyuck. Instead, he was faced with a sea of cameras. The bright flashes made him squint, and all he could manage was a lopsided smile as an answer to the barrage of questions and remarks from the reporters. Jeno twisted left and right, looking for a way out of the crowd, and that’s when he saw him. Just a few feet away, bathing in the impossibly bright light of the flashing cameras, Doyoung was stepping away from the reporters with ease. Jeno was not so practiced, though, and when the crowd surged against him, he stumbled straight backwards into Doyoung. He jerked back awkwardly as their shoulders bumped together.  </p><p>“Sorry,” Jeno managed to vocalize, and then their eyes met. Doyoung’s eyes widened in recognition. </p><p>“Double zero, right? Nice to meet you,” Doyoung said with a warm smile, taking his hand to shake. “Was this your first pro qualifier?” </p><p>Oh. </p><p>Jeno was expecting a <em>fancy seeing you here</em>, or a <em>long time no see</em>. Maybe a shared wink that only the two of them would understand. The only thing that he wasn’t expecting was for Doyoung to have no memory of him at all. </p><p>Jeno felt like crying. </p><p>“Uh, no, actually,” he mumbled in response, looking down at his own feet. “I’ve been in a few with you.” </p><p>“Huh,” Doyoung said, still smiling graciously. “We must not have been introduced.” </p><p>“We’ve met before,” Jeno blurted out. He winced at the volume of his own voice, clearly audible even over the sounds of the crowd. </p><p>“I’m sorry,” Doyoung said, his eyes wide and apologetic. “I meet a lot of people, and I’m really bad with faces. But I’ll remember you from now on. Double zero. Easy to remember,” he said with a laugh. </p><p>“It’s Jeno, actually,” he blurted out. “Jeno Lee.” Doyoung raised an eyebrow at him almost imperceptibly. </p><p>And then Donghyuck’s arms were encapsulating Jeno from behind. He turned around to see his crew chief’s thrilled expression, and when Jeno looked back over his shoulder, Doyoung was gone. </p><p>- </p><p><em>You don’t seem as... excited as I thought you’d be</em>, Donghyuck was asking. <em>What’s wrong?</em> </p><p>“I’m just taking it all in,” Jeno replied. An honest answer, really – it had been a long, anxiety-ridden day, and even sans-Doyoung, Jeno would have been burnt out. Besides, his crew chief didn’t need to know everything. Donghyuck probably wouldn’t <em>want </em>to know that Jeno had blown his biggest competitor in a dirty bathroom one month ago, and said competitor didn’t even remember it because he was likely drunk out of his mind, which might make Jeno some kind of sexual predator. </p><p>After hours of interviews and photo-ops, Jeno was finally back at his hotel, trudging through the lobby while Donghyuck talked his ear off through the phone about sponsors and strategy and what he needed to post on his Instagram that night. Jeno could only manage noncommittal grunts as answers at this point, walking up to an open pair of elevator doors. </p><p>“Donghyuck, I’m getting in the elevator, I have to go,” Jeno said when he finally managed to get a word in edgewise. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” He ignored Donghyuck’s whines of opposition as he stepped inside and ended the call. There was already someone in the elevator, pressing the button for his floor, and Jeno looked down, hoping that the man wouldn’t try to make conversation. In Jeno’s opinion, there were a lot of different kinds of awkward conversations – an elevator conversation was one of the worst on the list.  </p><p>“What floor?” the man asked, voice terribly familiar, and Jeno’s heart stopped. </p><p>“Oh,” Jeno breathed out as they made eye contact. </p><p>Of course, Doyoung was staying at the same hotel as him – why not further embarrass Jeno by making him take an elevator with the man who had forgotten his very existence? The man whose reflection in the elevator doors looked just as good as usual, while Jeno’s looked like he was standing in front of a funhouse mirror? </p><p>“What floor?” Doyoung repeated as the doors closed, and Jeno’s eyes flickered over to the elevator buttons. The indicator light for the top floor was already on. Of course Doyoung was staying on the top floor. </p><p>“Three,” Jeno answered meekly, and they began their slow ascent. It was painfully quiet between the two of them. Jeno began to think that maybe the absence of elevator conversation was even more uncomfortable than its presence. </p><p>Jeno felt Doyoung’s eyes land on him. “About earlier,” Doyoung started, breaking the silence. </p><p>“It’s alright,” Jeno quickly offered, but Doyoung cut him off. </p><p>“I couldn’t really say anything in front of the cameras, but I remember you.”  </p><p>Jeno’s stomach did a backflip. His eyes snapped up to meet Doyoung’s in shock. “I remember you,” Doyoung repeated. “On your knees in that dirty bathroom.” </p><p>Jeno's mouth was hanging open, he was sure of it, but he couldn’t will it to close. “You looked pretty good like that, I have to admit. A lot better than you did out there today.” </p><p><em>Ouch</em>. </p><p>“And you liked it, too. I could tell.” </p><p>So Doyoung did remember him. <em>Doyoung</em><em> Kim </em>remembered him, said that he looked good on his knees. Jeno could have an aneurism right there in the elevator. “Did you like it enough to do it again?” Doyoung asked, leaning up against the wall casually, as though they were discussing the weather. </p><p>Jeno blinked slowly, unsure of how to respond. “In here?” </p><p>Doyoung laughed. “I don’t really relish in the thought of some kid walking in on us, so no.” </p><p>“Oh,” Jeno answered stupidly, making it his mission to look at anything in the elevator other than Doyoung. </p><p>“I meant in my room,” Doyoung pressed, and Jeno swallowed uncomfortably, his heart beating so loudly he was sure that Doyoung could hear. “Do you want to?” </p><p>The elevator doors opened to reveal the third floor. Jeno hesitated. Hook up with a stranger in their hotel room? He could hear Donghyuck lecturing him already.  </p><p>But Doyoung wasn’t <em>really </em>a stranger. He was more like the object of Jeno’s wildest fantasies, his celebrity crush since grade 8, his idol. His co-worker. </p><p>The doors closed. </p><p>- </p><p>“C’mere,” Doyoung said, patting his clothed lap with an unassuming smile. Jeno hesitated. “Come here,” Doyoung repeated, dropping the smile, and Jeno awkwardly climbed onto the older man’s lap. “Do you like to get fucked like this?” Doyoung asked, voice smooth as his hands snaked around Jeno’s waist and slid into the back pockets of his tight jeans. “I bet you do. I bet you like to ride it.” Jeno felt his cheeks reddening. “Well?” Doyoung asked, arching a brow. </p><p>“I don’t know,” Jeno managed to say. </p><p>“Don’t tell me you’re a virgin,” Doyoung said, leaning back with a look of outrage on his face. </p><p>“I’m not!” Jeno blurted out, shaking his head animatedly. “I'm not usually... on the bottom,” he explained, voice trailing off into a quiet murmur. </p><p>Doyoung chuckled. “Then you’ll get some practice tonight, how about that?” Before Jeno could answer, Doyoung pushed him down onto the bed, back parallel with the mattress. “Take your pants off,” Doyoung ordered, and Jeno fumbled with his own zipper hurriedly, wasting no time in kicking his jeans off onto the carpet. “Open your legs,” Doyoung continued, and Jeno complied, yelping as Doyoung managed to sheathe his index finger inside of him in one go. No lube, just spit.  </p><p>“Hold on,” Jeno gasped out, his insides burning at the sudden intrusion.  </p><p>“I think you can handle that much,” Doyoung barked out a laugh, adding a second finger quickly. Jeno squirmed underneath him, overstimulated.  </p><p>“Doyoung,” Jeno gasped, reaching down to hold the older man’s hand still. “Hold on,” he repeated desperately, and Doyoung slowed his ministrations. </p><p>“What’s the matter? Does it hurt?” </p><p>“A little,” Jeno breathed out shakily. </p><p>“I was under the impression that you liked it to hurt a little,” Doyoung hummed. “At least, that’s what it looked like to me when you were choking on my cock that night.” He pulled his fingers out hastily. Jeno let out a long whine in response, the sudden lack of sensation causing his hole to flutter.  </p><p>“No, please,” Jeno begged, reaching for Doyoung’s hand. </p><p>“I thought you said it hurt,” Doyoung said, tone accusatory. </p><p>“I want it,” Jeno answered quickly. “I want it to hurt. Please.” </p><p>Doyoung’s eyes lit up at this. “Do you, now?” he asked, plugging Jeno up again with his fingers, eliciting a long string of moans from the younger man. He worked his fingers in and out of Jeno roughly, watching Jeno's expression so intently that the younger boy threw his own arm over his face, praying for his blush to stop spreading. </p><p>“You want me to fuck you?” Doyoung asked, and Jeno nodded fervently from behind his arm, struck again by how insurmountably casual Doyoung managed to sound whilst saying the most outlandish things. </p><p>“You think you can take it already? I’ve barely opened you up.” </p><p>“I can take it,” Jeno declared, voice mangled, hoping that his answer sounded more convincing out loud than it did in his own head. </p><p>“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, double zero.” Doyoung replied, a wicked smile on his face as he forcibly pried Jeno’s legs even further apart and slowly pushed inside of him.  </p><p>Jeno saw stars. It hurt, more than sex had ever hurt for him. Even his first time. But there was something pleasurable about this pain – something that he had never experienced before, a blazing fire in his lower abdomen, a <em>dry </em>pain that left Jeno feeling unbearably hot. “Fuck,” Doyoung proclaimed. “You are really, really tight.” His voice brought Jeno back to reality, vision clearer than ever, as Doyoung managed a thrust that tore a moan from both of their throats simultaneously. </p><p>“I usually don’t fuck other racers,” Doyoung groaned, “This is just a one-time thing.” </p><p><em>This is just a one-time thing</em>. Those words echoed around and around in Jeno’s head as Doyoung’s fist tightened in his hair, just as it had weeks ago in the restroom. Jeno had never felt anything like that before. It was a feeling that he had attempted to replicate many times since then, embarrassingly enough, one hand in his own hair and one hand on his dick. And now that he was finally feeling it again, Jeno came to an indisputable conclusion. </p><p>It couldn’t be just one time. Jeno was going to have to do better than just one time. </p><p>So he threw his head back and moaned. </p><p>-</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. I'll Just Let You Live</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><b> 2 Weeks Later </b> </p><p>Still riding the high of his hotel room encounter with Doyoung two weeks ago, it was no surprise that Jeno placed well at the next race. He finished at 17th – not as good as 10th, but still better than he or Donghyuck could have ever imagined. Jeno's car had practically hovered above the track, free of the heavy anxiety that usually weighed him down. He didn’t have time to be anxious. He only had time to think about Doyoung. </p><p>The way that Doyoung had fucked him better than anyone else ever had, times one hundred. Jeno came twice – the first time, untouched, his cock trapped between his own body and the sheets as Doyoung bent him over the bed. The second time, together with Doyoung as the older man fucked into him relentlessly from behind.  </p><p>Doyoung came on Jeno’s back that night. He was wearing a condom, but he pulled out anyways as he reached the precipice of his orgasm, ripping the condom off and painting Jeno’s back white. In Jeno’s post-orgasm delirium, Doyoung all but pelted him with a tissue box and told him to avoid the cameras when he left the room. Jeno floated out into the hallway on cloud nine anyways. Doyoung’s dismissive attitude stung a little, but not nearly as much as Jeno’s ass did, which was serving as a painful yet joyous reminder that Jeno had managed to bring <em> Doyoung Kim </em> to orgasm. </p><p>It was beginning to look like Jeno hadn’t done that great of a job, though, because Doyoung was ignoring him at the track. “Hi,” Jeno stammered when they finally crossed paths on the track after the race, and Doyoung shot him a smile. Jeno had meticulously studied enough of Doyoung’s face by now to know that it was fake. </p><p>“Great job out there,” Doyoung said, loud enough for the cameras to pick up. “You’re really making an impression!” </p><p>“Thank you,” Jeno breathed, and he had half a mind to follow Doyoung through the crowd like a puppy behind its owner. Doyoung gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head, as though he could read the younger man’s mind.  </p><p>“Nice seeing you!” Doyoung said quickly, shaking Jeno’s limp hand and pushing through the crowd, leaving Jeno alone with the reporters and cameras. The media attention on Jeno hadn’t yet died down. Even 17th place, the cameras were still surrounding him, asking him questions that were impossible to answer. <em> Why the sudden improvement, Jeno? </em>Jeno couldn’t give an explanation. The televised races were rated for children to watch, and Jeno doubted it would go over well if he admitted that the reason he was racing well was due to the fact that he had gotten the best dicking of his life. Twice. </p><p>They ran into each other again in the staff bathroom after the interviews. Jeno was fussing with his hair in the mirror when Doyoung entered. They made eye contact in the mirror, and Doyoung narrowed his eyes at Jeno’s flustered appearance. “Look, kid,” he started, making his way over to the row of sinks where Jeno stood.  </p><p>“I told you,” Doyoung said, his voice low. “One-time thing. Don’t talk to me on the track. Don’t even look at me. People will start to talk. I don’t want that. Okay?” </p><p>Jeno nodded fervently, cheeks heating up at Doyoung’s assertiveness. Doyoung heaved a sigh. “You sure you understand?” Jeno nodded again, lips sealed shut, and Doyoung rolled his eyes as he pushed into a stall. </p><p><b> 3 Months Later </b> </p><p>And so, that marked the abrupt end of the best few weeks of Jeno’s life. Sure, he was still placing well, snagging top twenty spots left and right. Really, Jeno couldn’t care less. He wasn’t happy. Doyoung hadn't even spared him a glance in months. There wasn’t an incentive to win anymore. </p><p>By some miracle, though, he kept his rank. Donghyuck asked. Jeno didn’t know, really. Maybe Doyoung had fucked the mediocrity out of him. Jeno laughed bitterly at this. </p><p>“Go to the end of season press party with me,” Donghyuck offered. “You can make friends with some other racers.” </p><p>It was awkward. <em> Jeno </em>was awkward, actually – everyone else seemed to be having a great time, and Jeno was a dark cloud hovering in the corner. He wanted to be friendly with the other racers and their managers, he really did, but even if he could manage to speak intelligibly around the large lump of social anxiety that had gathered in his throat, there was still the chance that Doyoung would be watching him, and that made him inexplicably nervous. </p><p>As Jeno made his way down a dark hallway to the bathroom for the umpteenth time that night, furiously tapping on his phone to send a strongly worded text to an extremely tardy Donghyuck, he caught a glimpse of a door at the end of the hall with the words <em> Roof Access </em> emblazoned on it. “Fresh air,” Jeno mumbled, and he pushed through the door without a second thought. He ambled up the claustrophobic stairwell and carefully pushed open the door to the roof. </p><p>It was dark out, well past 9 o'clock, but the lights from the neighboring buildings lit the roof up in small but bright patches of orange and yellow. The cold wind ruffled Jeno’s hair, and drew his eyes to a figure standing at the edge of the roof, leaning against the guardrail there. The man didn’t need to turn around for Jeno to know exactly who it was. Broad shoulders that tapered down into a slim waist, his hair as dark as his black fitted jacket. Jeno took a step backwards quietly, hoping that he hadn't heard the door open, but the man tossed a glance over his shoulder, meeting Jeno’s eyes. </p><p>“I’m sorry, I didn’t think anyone else would be up here,” Jeno apologized clumsily, turning around to bolt back down the stairwell. </p><p>“I’m bored enough to ask you to stay,” Doyoung answered nonchalantly from behind him, and Jeno stopped in his tracks. “So, stay.” </p><p>“Okay,” Jeno answered after a moment of hesitation, and he slowly walked up to Doyoung’s side, leaving more than a few feet of space between the two of them. </p><p>Quiet surrounded them for a moment. Then Doyoung spoke. </p><p>“Boring up here too, right?” </p><p>“How could <em> you </em> be bored at a party?” Jeno blurted out. “Every single person in there wants to talk to you.” </p><p>“I don’t want to talk to them,” Doyoung answered, swirling the drink in his glass around idly. </p><p>“Then why did you come?” </p><p>“Why did <em> you </em> come? To stand in the corner by yourself?” Doyoung asked, turning his sharp eyes on Jeno. </p><p>“I... My crew chief told me to come and make friends.” </p><p>“Standing in the corner isn’t going to make you friends,” Doyoung remarked. </p><p>“There’s nobody down there that I want to talk to,” Jeno admitted after a few beats of silence. </p><p>Doyoung snorted. “Too good for the other racers, huh? You get a few lucky placements and you think you’re big time?” </p><p>“No!” Jeno exclaimed, waving his hands animatedly. “I’m not... personable. Around people I don’t know.” he explained quickly. </p><p>Doyoung turned to him. “You seemed pretty <em> personable </em> to me, a while back.” </p><p>Jeno’s face heated up in response. “I didn’t consider you a stranger,” he mumbled, looking down at his feet. </p><p>“Why?” </p><p>“I... I’ve been a fan of yours for a while. I wasn’t lying when I said I was a fan, back then.” </p><p>“Oh God,” Doyoung muttered darkly, planting his face into his hands. “No fans, no coworkers. I really fucked up this time.” </p><p>“I won’t say anything,” Jeno said. “If that’s what you’re worried about, I mean.” </p><p>Doyoung looked up at him from where he was leaned over, elbows on the railing. “Of course you won’t. It would ruin your career too, you know.” </p><p>“I guess it would,” Jeno answered quietly, pushing his bangs back as the wind picked up again. Doyoung regarded him with a thoughtful look on his face.  </p><p>“You didn't think about that, huh.” It wasn’t really a question, but Jeno nodded anyways, and then Doyoung pulled him in for a sudden, searing kiss. </p><p>There was a slim guardrail against the small of Jeno’s back. Nothing else was stopping him from falling once Doyoung had turned him around and pressed him against the rail. Jeno whimpered involuntarily when Doyoung’s hands forced their way up underneath his dress shirt and thumbed over his nipples. He dropped his forehead forcibly onto Doyoung’s shoulder in reaction.  </p><p>“You’re so sensitive,” Doyoung remarked, his hands roaming around underneath Jeno’s shirt. “I thought maybe you were high last time, the way you reacted in bed. But I guess you’re just a slut.” </p><p>Jeno gasped at Doyoung’s words, his mouth falling open in compliance as Doyoung leaned in to kiss him again, this time with more tongue than before. Their erections bumped together through their clothes as Doyoung gathered Jeno up in his arms, slotting his thigh between Jeno’s legs to hold the shivering younger man up. </p><p>“You want me to fuck you? Right here?” </p><p>“Yes,” Jeno breathed out immediately, reaching for Doyoung’s pants to unzip them, and the latter laughed out loud.  </p><p>“We can't have sex here,” Doyoung said, grabbing Jeno’s hands to stop him. </p><p>“Then where?” </p><p>- </p><p>“Hands and knees,” Doyoung ordered, and Jeno obeyed quickly, clambering onto the bed stark naked. They had somehow managed to make it back to Doyoung’s hotel in a cab without completely soiling the back seat, but not without some strange looks from the driver in the rearview mirror. </p><p>“You didn’t need a lot of prep last time, as I recall,” Doyoung was saying as he pulled his own clothes off beside the bed, eyeing Jeno lasciviously. Something twitched deep inside of Jeno’s body as he remembered the uncharacteristically burning pain from months ago. “Why don’t you open yourself up this time?” </p><p>Jeno nodded, reaching around to frantically warm himself up as quickly as he could, Doyoung’s impatient and cold presence close enough to give him goosebumps. “That should be enough,” Jeno heard himself say after less than a minute, too timid in Doyoung's company to admit that he needed more time before he could comfortably accommodate even another finger. </p><p>“Okay,” Doyoung deadpanned, and then Jeno’s chest was pressed down into the mattress, Doyoung’s strong hands on his upper back. </p><p>The sex was rough, but it hurt less this time – Jeno attributed it to the fact that he had been fingering himself a lot for the past few months, his body more accustomed to the intrusion. He was distracted enough by Doyoung’s groans in his ear to forget the pain anyways. The older man pushed him further into the mattress with every thrust, his fingers digging uncomfortably into Jeno’s shoulders, cock way too deep inside of him. </p><p>“You like this?” Doyoung rasped into his ear, and Jeno managed a moan in response. Doyoung laughed, picking up the pace, and Jeno clenched his jaw in an attempt to stay relatively quiet. The attempt was short lived, though, as Doyoung’s length brushed up against a particularly sensitive spot deep inside of him. Jeno let out a yelp, and when Doyoung hit the spot again, it was over. Jeno came untouched, spilling all over the sheets underneath him, and Doyoung’s hips stuttered at the scene beneath him. </p><p>“Fuck,” Doyoung groaned, and managed to push in even further, despite Jeno’s desperately clenching hole. “Hold on.” A couple of particularly deep thrusts later, he pulled out and worked himself with his own hand to finish on Jeno’s back again. </p><p>Letting out a deep sigh, Doyoung sat back on his heels. “Fuck,” he repeated, and Jeno moaned lazily in response, limbs like jelly. </p><p>“I’d say you’re pretty personable, Jeno.” </p><p><b> 8 Months Later </b> </p><p>The adrenaline rush that Jeno got from going 200 miles per hour in his car paled in comparison to the way that Doyoung Kim's hands felt on him. No matter how many times Jeno finished in the top ten (which was beginning to become <em> a normal thing, </em>to Donghyuck’s delight), Jeno wasn’t smiling because of his placement. He was smiling because he knew what was coming next. </p><p>In Doyoung’s luxurious hotel suite, the bedsheets so neatly folded that Jeno felt bad making a mess of them. And did they ever make a mess – the covers usually ended up on the floor, stained with lube and cum. </p><p>In the staff restrooms at the track, Jeno on his knees in his brand-new racing uniform, Doyoung’s cock shoved so far down his throat that he could hardly breathe. Donghyuck always complained that the knees of his pants were dirty. Jeno could only shrug innocently. </p><p>In the shower, Jeno desperately clawing at the wet tiles while Doyoung drove into him relentlessly, hot steam further reddening his skin. Doyoung looked particularly good when wet, Jeno noticed. </p><p>In a utility closet, Doyoung impatiently tearing Jeno’s clothes off as the younger boy bit down on his own arm to quiet himself. Jeno especially liked when Doyoung lifted him up and fucked him against the wall, their foreheads pressed together. </p><p>It became a routine, their post-race rendezvous. Sometimes Doyoung let Jeno stay afterwards, too, if the sex was rough enough to have rendered Jeno practically immobile. Not that Jeno would ever complain, though. He’d grown quite comfortable with the fact that he was some kind of masochistic freak. Why Jeno was so turned on by Doyoung’s particularly hurtful words and strong hands, he had stopped wondering all together. </p><p>“What? Does it feel that good?” Doyoung was asking, voice surreptitiously sweet, and Jeno could only whine in response. Dry humping Doyoung desperately, his legs hooked around Doyoung’s waist, pleading with him for his cock. “So desperate for it, huh?” Doyoung asked. Only for pleasantries sake, really. He knew the answer. They both did.  </p><p>“Be a good boy and spread your legs.” Doyoung finally proclaimed, and Jeno shivered at his words. </p><p>Jeno ended up on top, in a similar position to the one he found himself in the first time that they fucked. “You should really consider a career change. You’re good enough to make money at this,” Doyoung hissed through his teeth, and Jeno ignored the sting of his words, rolling his hips faster. He bit down on his lip in surprise when Doyoung suddenly gripped his hips in impatience and started fucking up into him. Neither of them lasted long after that. </p><p>Jeno was gathering up his things when Doyoung suddenly spoke from the bed. “You know, you’re really good looking.” Jeno whipped his head around and blinked twice, eyes wide. Doyoung was laying with his hands behind his head, eyes closed. “Why are you a racer? You could be a model,” he continued. </p><p>“You asked me if I was a model the first night we met,” Jeno managed, choosing to overlook the fact that Doyoung had just questioned his career choice again. This was probably the most they’d spoken to one another after sex. Ever. </p><p>“I was serious,” Doyoung said, finally opening his eyes and sitting up to look at Jeno. “I am serious. You got a lot more traction in the press than usual when you placed high for the first time. It’s because you’re good looking.” </p><p>“Thank you,” Jeno said with hesitation, half-offended. Doyoung hummed in response, hands landing behind his head again as he laid back down comfortably. </p><p>“See you around,” he said when Jeno reached for the doorknob to leave.  </p><p>“See you,” Jeno answered into the darkness, and when he closed the door behind him with finality, a tentative smile spread across his face. </p><p>- </p><p>Doyoung usually had one of two guys on his arm at the track. Jeno had noticed them well before Doyoung and he had started their triste. They were both unrealistically handsome. One was slight, with brightly colored hair that seemed to change every week. He looked like he could be the frontman of a palatable punk rock band. The other one was pale and statuesque, traditionally handsome. He could pass for a top-billed Korean movie star. </p><p>Jeno didn’t look like an actor. Or like he was in a band. </p><p>Today, the man's hair was pink. A soft shade, like cotton candy. His eyes were big and sparkling when he looked at Doyoung, like a deer caught in headlights. He clung tightly to Doyoung on the side of the track, smiling up at him. </p><p>Jeno turned away uncomfortably when he felt Doyoung’s eyes land on him. </p><p>Jeno placed thirty-fourth. His worst rank in almost a year. The cameras were flashing and he was sweating profusely, his mind racing a million miles a minute as he clambered out of his car. <em>Jeno, what happened? Jeno! You seemed distracted on the track! Jeno, was there something wrong with your car?</em> Cheeks burning, Jeno parted through the crowd of reporters, ignoring their questions. He felt Donghyuck’s arm slip into his, his warm voice offering support into his right ear, but Jeno couldn’t make out the exact words. Everything sounded garbled as he focused on the big screen, Doyoung’s big fake smile evoking a feeling within himself that it never had before. </p><p>Doyoung wasted no time fucking him that night. The door to the hotel room was barely shut before his hands were all over Jeno, tugging him onto the bed. “Lay down on your back,” he ordered, and Jeno didn’t spare a second as he scrambled into position. “Good boy,” Doyoung teased, and it made Jeno blush in arousal. Doyoung only said it to embarrass him, but the effect was all the same.  </p><p>Doyoung crawled on top of him and held Jeno's hands together tightly above his head. “You had a tough time today, huh?” he asked, his expression mock-concerned, and Jeno looked away, willing himself to act unbothered by his placement so that Doyoung couldn’t taunt him about it. </p><p>“C’mon, Jeno,” Doyoung said, voice syrupy. “How can I make you feel better?” </p><p>“I’m fine,” Jeno managed, flinching when Doyoung pinched at his nipple through his thin shirt. </p><p>“You sure? You don’t want to do anything special?” </p><p>“Like what?” Jeno asked, already out of breath. With Doyoung’s body on top of him, pressed close, Jeno was embarrassingly and predictably hard.  </p><p>“How about I suck you off this time?” </p><p>Jeno's cock jumped in his pants. Doyoung huffed out a little laugh, his unoccupied hand trailing down between the two of them to brush over Jeno’s clothed crotch. “Do you want me to?” Doyoung hummed, and Jeno couldn’t bring himself to answer. When they fucked, Doyoung did all of the decision making. Jeno never really had a say – he didn't want one, really. </p><p>“...I want you to,” Jeno finally answered, his voice quiet and apprehensive. </p><p>Doyoung wasted no time pulling Jeno’s cock out of his pants. He licked a sudden stripe up the underside of it, tongue hot, and Jeno all but drew blood as he bit down hard on his own lower lip. Doyoung hummed in appreciation, taking Jeno’s length fully into his mouth.  </p><p>Jeno’s cock, usually left unattended during their sex, twitched animatedly in the wet heat of Doyoung’s mouth. “Stay still,” Doyoung ordered after Jeno’s hips bucked up one too many times involuntarily. </p><p>“I can’t,” Jeno whined, and instead of arguing with him, Doyoung opted for holding Jeno’s hips down himself, taking Jeno’s cock down his throat once more. “Doyoung,” Jeno warned, his voice tight. Doyoung pulled off with a lewd noise, looking up at him with those impossibly dark eyes. </p><p>Yes, it occurred to Jeno that Doyoung was so into this because Jeno had done so badly on the track earlier that day. Or maybe because he had seen Jeno’s reaction to the pink-haired man. But Jeno was too far gone to care. </p><p>“Where do you want to come?” Doyoung asked, and it only brought the younger man closer to the edge. </p><p>“I...” </p><p>“You can come wherever you want,” Doyoung said with a wicked smile, working his hand up and down Jeno’s spit-soaked cock masterfully. Before Jeno could answer, he erupted, the image of that smile burnt into his mind. And when he stumbled out of Doyoung’s hotel room later that night, he finally placed the emotion that he had felt earlier at the track, looking up at Doyoung on the screen. </p><p>Bitterness. </p><p><b> 3 Months Later </b> </p><p>“You’re fucking <em> Doyoung Kim </em>?” </p><p>Jeno hushed him furiously, clapping his hand over Donghyuck’s mouth. “Keep your voice down!” he whispered, looking around with wide eyes. Luckily, the auto shop was mostly empty. “The reason that I<em> told you </em>is because I need a favor,” Jeno hissed in explanation. “I need you to go to the end of season banquet with me.” </p><p>“Yeah, the chiefs usually go-” </p><p>“As my date.” </p><p>“But I thought you were fucking Doyoung Kim?” </p><p>Jeno rolled his eyes in exasperation, hushing him again. “It’s complicated,” he groaned. “I just... I need you to do this for me. Okay?” </p><p>Donghyuck studied him for a moment. “You want to make him jealous,” he half-stated, half-asked, and Jeno nodded. </p><p>- </p><p>Doyoung was alone. He didn’t have a date on his arm. Jeno had half a mind to tell Donghyuck to ditch at the last second, but it was too late. Doyoung had already spotted them. The older man glanced over Donghyuck almost boredly. “Nice to see you, Jeno. And this is?” Doyoung asked, the unrest in his voice undetectable to everyone but Jeno. </p><p>“Nice to meet you. Donghyuck Lee,” Donghyuck said with a dazzling smile, sticking his hand out. </p><p>“You’re Jeno’s crew chief,” Doyoung responded bluntly. </p><p>“Jeno and I have known each other for a long time,” Donghyuck answered smoothly, and Jeno smiled victoriously. If there was anyone who could match Doyoung’s derision, it was Donghyuck. “Since high school. And yes, it’s true – he <em> has </em> always been this handsome,” Donghyuck cooed, pinching Jeno’s cheek and earning laughter from the crowd that was hovering around them. </p><p>“Glad to meet you. You’ve got a great racer on your hands,” Doyoung said with a quick smile. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to take a smoke break.” </p><p>“Of course,” Donghyuck beamed, and Jeno could almost taste his own long-awaited victory.  </p><p>“I'd like to have a word with you beforehand, actually,” Doyoung said, beckoning Jeno towards him with a crook of his finger. “Alone.” Jeno’s stomach dropped, shocked by Doyoung’s sudden forwardness in a public space. He expected Doyoung to make an excuse, as Jeno could feel the eyes of the crowd on them, but he simply turned on his heel and headed for the door. </p><p>- </p><p>Doyoung pulled Jeno by the collar into the backseat of his car. “Did you think that was going to make me jealous?” Doyoung asked once the car door was closed behind him, his tone suspiciously level. “Bringing that backwoods crew chief of yours as your date?” Jeno avoided eye contact, unsure of how upset the older man was. </p><p>Doyoung barked out a short laugh. “Cute,” he sneered, and then his hand caught Jeno roughly by the chin, forcing him to look up. “He’s obviously not your type,” Doyoung said, dropping Jeno’s chin and instead wrapping his fingers around Jeno’s neck comfortably. “You like someone more... domineering,” he continued, and he began to apply pressure to Jeno’s throat. </p><p>“Maybe I should get you a collar, so that you don’t forget who you belong to.” Jeno arched his back involuntarily, taking in a sharp breath as Doyoung’s fingers traced his throat. Doyoung visibly perked up at his reaction. “I didn’t know you were into that kind of thing,” he continued, a knowing smile spreading on his face. </p><p>“I don’t know if I am,” Jeno gasped out. </p><p>“You are,” Doyoung said assuredly, and Jeno hated how much Doyoung knew all of him, even the parts that Jeno didn’t know himself. </p><p>Doyoung pushed Jeno down, back flush against the seats, as he began his ministrations between the younger man’s legs. “Don’t forget who that belongs to,” Doyoung murmured into Jeno’s thigh as he worked two spit-slicked fingers into Jeno’s hole. </p><p><em> I can’t forget, even if I try, </em>Jeno wanted to say, but there was something about the way that Doyoung was looking at him that rendered Jeno completely mute. </p><p>Something was different this time. Doyoung was still rough, he was still impatient and pushy, but there was something about the way that he was encasing Jeno in his arms while he fucked into him. “Mine,” he growled into Jeno’s ear, and Jeno felt like he was going to pass out. </p><p>“Can I...” Jeno started to ask, his sentence trailing off as Doyoung slowed his pace, thrusts shallower. </p><p>“If you want to come, you’d better beg.” </p><p>“...Please,” Jeno managed, and Doyoung laughed. </p><p>“You’ll have to do better than that.” </p><p>“Please, let me come,” Jeno breathed, and Doyoung’s hips stuttered against Jeno’s body. </p><p>“I’m close,” Doyoung proclaimed suddenly. They always used a condom, but Doyoung pulled out every time regardless. Jeno suspected that it was because Doyoung had multiple partners. Despite all of this, something deep inside of Jeno was itching for Doyoung to come inside of him. Make Jeno his.  </p><p>“You don’t have to pull out,” Jeno whispered. Doyoung moaned at this, his thrusts becoming erratic, Jeno still trapped in his arms. And when Jeno felt Doyoung’s cock pulsating deep inside of him, he came too. </p><p>They landed in an uncomfortable position, Doyoung spooning Jeno in the cramped backseat. Their chests rose and fell in sync, breathing heavily. The windows were so fogged up that Jeno couldn’t see anything outside. </p><p>"The last race of the season is coming up,” Doyoung spoke first. </p><p>“I want to win,” Jeno admitted in a sudden rush of bravery. They never really talked about racing together. Or anything, really, other than sex. </p><p>“Good luck beating me,” Doyoung said dryly. </p><p>Jeno considered his options. “You won’t even give me a little edge?” </p><p>Doyoung chuckled. “Nope.” </p><p>“Damn,” Jeno said, biting his lip and looking over his shoulder, hoping that his best smoldering look would change the older man’s mind. Doyoung quirked a brow at him, a small smile growing on his face. </p><p>“I’ll give you a tip, okay?” Jeno nodded excitedly, turning on his side so that they were facing one another. “Do you know about down force and drag force?” Jeno narrowed his eyes and shook his head. </p><p>“You didn't pay any attention in your physics class, I take it?” </p><p>“I dropped out before I could take physics,” Jeno admitted quietly, looking down. </p><p>“...I didn’t know that you were a dropout.” </p><p>“I mean, I prefer not to be called a dropout, but yeah,” Jeno said, busying his hands with his cufflinks. </p><p>“Do you regret it?” Doyoung asked, his voice soft, like he was afraid of startling a small animal. Jeno knew that voice all too well. </p><p>“Why do you sound like that?” Jeno asked suddenly, meeting Doyoung’s eyes in a challenge. </p><p>“Sound like what?” Doyoung asked, his tone even again, and Jeno shook his head, turning back around. </p><p>“Like you feel bad for me.” </p><p>“I don’t feel bad for you,” Doyoung said after a hesitant moment. </p><p>“You never cared about my feelings before,” Jeno said bluntly, “so what’s different now?” Doyoung opted for silence. “You think I don’t recognize that tone?” Jeno continued, the volume of his voice rising. </p><p>“I don’t know, Jeno.” </p><p>Jeno snapped his head around. “I’m not just some poor kid. I didn’t drop out because my dad didn't have a job. I didn’t grow up in the slums. I could've finished school if I wanted to. I dropped out to focus on racing.” </p><p>“Okay, okay,” Doyoung said, raising his open palms in defeat. </p><p>“I have to get going, actually,” Jeno said after a moment of uncomfortable silence. “I promised Donghyuck I’d be early tomorrow, and-” </p><p>“It’s okay,” Doyoung said. “You don’t have to explain.” </p><p>Jeno had almost closed the car door behind him when Doyoung’s voice rang out behind him. “How old are you, Jeno?” </p><p>“I’m twenty-one,” Jeno answered after a moment of hesitation. He couldn’t meet Doyoung’s eyes. </p><p>Jeno was nineteen. </p><p>- </p><p>Jeno placed 20th in the closing race. Of course, a wild improvement from last season, but the press had projected that Jeno would land on the podium. Now they were calling him <em> unpredictable. </em>It was a disappointment all around – Donghyuck was especially upset. He tried not to show it, but Jeno knew. “I'll get the podium next season,” Jeno had promised him after the race. “I really will.” Donghyuck had nodded in agreement, eyes glassy. </p><p>Jeno shook his head like a wet dog when he entered Doyoung’s hotel room that night, clothes soaked through by a cold November rain. “I thought you were going to give me a run for my money today,” Doyoung’s voice came from within the dark room, startling Jeno. “I told you, you need to take a physics course online.” </p><p>“Why are you sitting in here with all the lights off?” Jeno huffed, struggling to peel his thin jacket off to reveal an equally soggy white t-shirt underneath. He picked at the garment, well aware of how transparent it had become while wet. </p><p>“Are you trying to turn me on? Or are you that oblivious?” Doyoung asked, voice low and eyes piercing in the low lighting of the room. Jeno chose not to answer, and in a quick moment, Doyoung pressed him up against the wall, his arms on either side of Jeno’s head.  </p><p>“What do you want?” Jeno asked, willing himself to sound nonchalant. </p><p>“I wanna fuck you against the glass. So that everyone can see,” Doyoung said matter-of-factly, gesturing at the large windows across the room. Jeno could only whimper in opposition, trapped against the wall. </p><p>“Take off your clothes. Slowly.” Jeno turned his eyes to the ground, Doyoung’s gaze burning like a trail of fire over his body as he stripped totally naked. “Look at you,” Doyoung said, his voice mellow, and Jeno felt his ears redden. </p><p>“It’s all yours,” Jeno admitted, voice muffled in Doyoung’s neck as he crashed into him. Doyoung planted a kiss behind Jeno’s left ear. The latter shivered at this. Doyoung rarely kissed him, and when he did, Jeno found himself aching for more. </p><p>Rain pattered softly on the window, blurring the bright city lights together. Jeno's palms rested on the glass in front of him. Doyoung radiated heat from behind him as their bodies touched, his hardness pressed against Jeno’s ass. He slipped a finger into Jeno’s tightness slowly, earning a drawn-out moan from the younger man. “You have such a hot body,” Doyoung whispered, so quietly that it almost seemed to be a silent thought that had managed to slip out. Jeno whimpered, his legs shaking, barely able to hold himself up.  </p><p>Sure, Jeno liked it when Doyoung hurt him. And not just physically. When Doyoung called him names, laughed at him, humiliated him in bed, it felt so good that Jeno had considered bringing it up to his therapist. He figured that she’d tell him to run away from Doyoung as fast as he could, though, so Jeno kept his lips sealed. </p><p>Sometimes, though, Jeno couldn’t help but think that it would feel just as good if Doyoung praised him. Kissed him all over, whispered approval in his ear, held his shaking body close when he came. When Doyoung complimented him like he just had (which was rare), Jeno felt something twist inside of his chest.  </p><p>What did Doyoung say to the pink-haired man when they had sex? Was Doyoung on the top with him too? </p><p>Jeno was so lost in his thoughts that he barely registered when Doyoung pulled his fingers out, reaching for his own cock. “You’re hoping someone sees, right?” Doyoung asked, and Jeno shut his eyes tightly. “It would be a dream come true for you, someone seeing us together.” </p><p>“Please,” Jeno gasped, his forehead smacking into the window with a loud thunk as Doyoung pressed into him with a particularly rough thrust.  </p><p>“What do you want from me?” Doyoung whispered filthy and low in his ear, his soft lips grazing against Jeno’s skin and causing goosebumps. Jeno stayed silent, trying his hardest and failing to keep his hips still. He hated when his body betrayed him around Doyoung. It just gave the older man more ammunition. </p><p>Doyoung chuckled at his movement. “You want me to fuck you? Is that it?” A small whine escaped Jeno’s throat in response. “Yeah. I figured.” He nudged at Jeno’s entrance with the tip of his cock. Jeno bit down on his bottom lip and willed himself to be quiet as his mind was occupied with thoughts of Doyoung fucking someone else. </p><p>“You’re always so tight,” Doyoung hissed as he sunk into Jeno’s hole. “Is that because nobody else fucks you?” Jeno clenched his jaw. “You’d never let anyone else fuck you. Isn’t that right?” Doyoung asked, voice silky smooth. It was a rhetorical question, really. Doyoung knew the answer, even though Jeno wouldn’t admit it. Not because he didn’t want Doyoung to know. Only because he knew that Doyoung would never say it back. </p><p>“Come on, Jeno. Say something,” Doyoung murmured, his hand wrapping around Jeno’s throat. “Why so quiet today?” </p><p>“I don’t want to talk,” Jeno bit out, willing himself not to cry, blinking rapidly to force tears back down. </p><p>“Hm?” Doyoung murmured, busying himself with sucking marks into Jeno’s neck. </p><p>Jeno felt his chest restricting with tightness, and he panicked. “Stop,” he said suddenly, wriggling out of Doyoung’s arms and away from the window. “I don’t want to.” </p><p>Doyoung’s eyes followed Jeno across the room. “You don’t want to have sex right now,” he repeated in disbelief. “<em> You </em>don’t want to.” </p><p>“Who is he?” Jeno asked, voice tight. </p><p>“What the hell are you talking about?” Doyoung asked exasperatedly.  </p><p>“The man with the pink hair.” </p><p>Jeno watched as Doyoung’s expression changed thrice within the second. From confusion, to composure, to anger. He didn’t answer. “How about the other guy, then? The one who looks like an actor?” Jeno continued, voice cracking painfully. </p><p>“It’s none of your fucking business.” Doyoung’s voice was laced with poison. </p><p>“You’re right,” Jeno said angrily, turning around to gather his things. “It’s not.” He could feel Doyoung’s eyes on his back as palpably as he could feel the tears gathering in the inner corners of his own eyes.  </p><p>“Where do you think you’re going?” Doyoung asked. </p><p>Jeno slammed the door behind him.</p>
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